


Gardien de nuit

by orphan_account



Series: comfortember [5]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Banter, Brotherly Bonding, Damian Wayne is a good brother, Fluff, Gen, Tim Drake is a Good Brother, attempts at humor, caring batfam, they be sleepy, they would rather tell the other to go eat shit than to admit it though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:26:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27435796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The habit would get Drake killed.Damian refused to accept that.For day 6 of comfortember: Afraid to sleep
Relationships: Tim Drake & Damian Wayne
Series: comfortember [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1995100
Comments: 6
Kudos: 262
Collections: Comfortember 2020





	Gardien de nuit

**Author's Note:**

> A basic line up for this universe’s YJ is Tim, Damian, Steph, Kon, Bart, Cassie, Maya, Jon, Emiko,Wallace,  
> And cissie king jones and Suren as the long suffering not members that occasionally gets dragged into shenanigansThough, basically, only Tim & Damian are really relevant for this fic
> 
> So, I’m probably not going to complete comfortember on time, let’s be honest, but I will do my best to complete it, eventually. No matter how long it takes :D So pls bear with me, and I hope you enjoy this ride.  
> As usual, I own nothing

Amongst his family’s very worst habits was their tendency to overwork themselves. To work until they crashed, after another long, nightmare-fuel evening of working cases.

Not that Damian himself was above it. But while he was perhaps one of the worst offenders, he was self aware enough to admit it.

A family of over-worked maniacs, Gordon had once called them, unwilling to see the hypocrisy of that statement. Even then, Damian had to admit that it wasn’t entirely inaccurate.

The very worst offender, however, was once again Drake. In his quest to maintain both a normal civilian and vigilante life, he tended to work himself to the bone. Many times, Damian had walked into some room or the other to find him passed out in some improbable position, drooling on some object or the other, hair a tangled mess, paper-creases painted on his face.

But falling asleep in just about any of the Manor’s rooms was far down the list of his worst sins.

Provided he was relaxed enough — felt safe enough, to Damian’s understanding —, provided he had nothing specific to occupy himself with, Drake could fall asleep just about anywhere.

In no particular order, Damian had found him sleeping in the following places: A punk rock concert. An inflatable boat in Gotham Harbor. Seated in a roller coaster. Batcow’s stall. A ski slope. Strapped securely to a speedster’s back, though after the roller coaster, he wasn’t sure why he was still surprised by that one.

Damian, however, finally drew the line at the _spacesuit_. Tethered to Jon’s brother, granted, but still. Floating around on an alien planet, one whose gravity was largely inferior to Earth’s.

It was _infuriating_.

It was a problem.

More than a problem, it was a liability.

The rest of the family seemed to think he never put himself in danger, doing that. That Drake’s paranoia would protect him, that he’d never fall asleep in a truly dangerous location. That his instincts would wake him up, should the need arise. That he often had at least one person watching his back when he did that.

Having been through more training than most of them, he disagreed.

The habit _would_ get Drake killed.

Damian refused to accept that.

Damian refused to watch them all fall apart when this led to its inevitable conclusion.

————————

The time for action came soon enough.

Damian had come out of his room, daring to venture down the corridors of Young Justice headquarters, sword maintenance kit in hand. He usually took the time to clean and sharpen the sword in his room, but he had to admit there was a certain peace in being in the common rooms.

He came to a stop.

Drake was there, collapsed on a couch, drooling his heart out on a cushion.

Sleeping in the open.

Damian evaluated the room’s best defensive spots and settled down for a long watch.

If the idiot wasn’t going to keep himself safe, Damian was going to make sure no one managed to kill him.

It took two and a half hours for him to wake up.

Damian trained, played video games, and made good use of his artistic talent on the only support he could access. He was thoroughly bored by the time Jon bounced in the room loudly calling them for training. That seemed to finally have an effect on Drake’s coma-adjacent sleep.

His eyes fluttered open and he groaned.

“Waking up to you sharpening a sword inches from my face is not exactly my idea of a good time,” he rasped, voice still heavy with sleep.

Damian smirked.

“Maybe then you should choose to sleep in safer locations.”

That made Drake snort, and do a sort of wiggling motion. Trying to get more comfortable. Trying to settle for another nap, discarding Damian’s point without care, no doubt.

“Brat.”

“Idiot.”

“Little shit.”

“Cretin.”

“Gremlin.”

“Stalker.”

“Alright, you two-”

——————

Despite the many inconveniences, not the least of them being Drake’s lack of self preservation instinct, Damian soon found some positive sides to the situation.

“Tim.”

“Bruce.”

“Tim.”

“Bruce.”

“Tim. While I support-”

“Oh, for god’s sake. He’s trying to ask why you have a smirking duck drawn on your face.”

“Why I have a wh— DAMIAN—”

———————

It became something of an habit. To find Drake when he was about to pass out, or had already, for that matter, and to stand guard until someone he could trust came by, or Drake was about to wake up.

It happened surprisingly often. Weekly at the very least. Sometimes multiple days in a row. Mostly he made a point to make himself scarce before Drake entirely woke up and cottoned on to what he was doing.

However, it seemed Damian had not nearly been careful enough — he refused to think of Drake as observant, when he completely failed to see how this practice was dangerous.

He was discussing his art — ‘Please don’t draw ducks on Tim’s face when he’s sleeping, yes, even in that case. No, Superboy’s symbol is not allowed either. In fact, please don’t draw on Tim at all.’— with Richard in one of the bigger living rooms of the Manor, when Drake stumbled in the room, clearly halfway to unconsciousness already.

“Thought,” Drake yawned, curling up on his side of the sofa, “-thought I’d save you the trip.”

Damian arched an eyebrow.

“Could you maybe spare me the entire process and sleep somewhere considered socially acceptable?”

“Nope.”

“I should strangle you in your sleep,” he pleasantly informed his brother of.

“Dare you to.”

“Titus should get your bed. You don’t deserve it.”

“Hm-hm. He already gets yours, though. So who’s the real loser here?”

———————

And though it took quite some time to gain his trust, Damian had been surprised to find himself a fairly tactile person. He had no qualms initiating hugs with Grayson, or holding hands with Maps. More than that, he always enjoyed the contact. Sought it out himself, often enough.

While most of his siblings had picked up on it, he hadn’t expected Drake to.

Notice? Care?

Not since their rocky start, not since the kill-list.

But Damian woke up to the steady, familiar beeping of the medbay’s heart monitor, to familiar fingers playing with his hair. It took a moment to remember Grayson’s injury, his night long vigil. Doing his best not to slip into unconsciousness, but failing to. Exhausted beyond measure by the stress of the mission.

He feigned sleep, too relieved by the fact that Grayson was awake to do much of anything yet.

“— I didn’t know you’d started returning the favor,” he was saying.

Drake hummed, noncommittally.

“Well, he’s doing it for a reason.”

“Yeah.”

“You were hurt, I figured it was the least I could do.”

“You keep on telling yourself that.”

Damian could just hear the smile in Grayson’s voice. Groaning, he snuggled closer, and his fingers resumed the petting motions in his hair.

After a couple of minutes of silence, Drake spoke again. “He can never know.”

“It’s cute how you think you still have a reputation to preserve.”

Drake groaned.

“Why do you always have to be the absolute best or the actual worst. Choose an in-between already.”

“Big brother privileges, Timmy.”

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not entirely happy with this one, but I figured if I kept overthinking it I’d never post it
> 
> I hope you enjoyed, please take care of yourself!! <3


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